It's been a while...

...since I last posted. My having a blog is kind of silly, the summer is becoming busier and also I'm finding it harder to be arsed to actually sit down and write stuff.
I much prefer googling pictures of Alison Mosshart and flicking back and forth to the I Love Techno website.

Man I can't wait. October seems like an awful long time away.

Does the Queen call herself 'My Majesty'?

My boyfriend's grads ball is coming up. He repeated but never went to his first one so he decided to not be a dope this time and make his mother happy. I have a lovely dress and now need shoes, a bag and perhaps a hat or headpiece like this



or this



or this



I've been thinking about my own Debs night as a result of all this. It was all going according to plan for me up until five days before the night, when the aforementioned boyfriend decided to break up with me. I luckily had a good friend who acted as my back up date, but as I was so busy I never really even thought about the fact that I was now 'going through a break-up'. Consequently, my debs night was basically me in a full length Roland Mouret ball gown, pissed on gin, smoking and insulting people. The same 3,000 euro ball gown later fell apart on the dance floor, turning it into a see through mini-dress.
''It's supposed to be like that'' I slurred at my sober friends.
Thankfully I bought the dress for just 150 euro. It still hangs limp and sad in two pieces in my wardrobe as a reminder of what not to do on your Debs night.

To add to the humiliation, I woke up in my ex-boyfriend's house the next morning. Me and his sister had decided to have a sleepover for old time's sake apparently.

Ah the Debs. A great Irish institution. I'm incredibly glad I have a second chance.

O.J.

Have you ever noticed that orange juice is yellow? And judging by that picture oranges aren't very orange either.
If you ask me that's sunshine yellow right there.
God damn fraudsters.
Either that, or the colour orange really did come after the fruit. As in the fruit wasn't called an orange because it's orange.

It's like the chicken and egg debate all over again.



I really wish I was at Oxegen.

I am a very happy girl today.

I just attended the best gig I think I have ever attended in all of my young life. I was a bit confused before as to how a N.A.S.A. gig would actually work. To me they just seemed to be DJs or producers and not really responsible for a large part of what they do. How wrong I was. It was an amazingly solid set of remixes and beats that was so incredibly energetic. It was like 2manydjs but more hip-hop inclined. I don't think I've ever heard a remix of Killing in the Name of quite like the one I heard last night.

The Pavilion was the perfect venue too. There can't have been more than 100 people there last night, it felt so exclusive and so much like a secret gig.
So that was all well and good. All through the night however there were rumours of a certain guest making an appearance. Rumours which turned out to be so very true. The surge of the crowd when Kanye West and Kid Cudi came on stage was incredible. I can gladly say I was in the front row, and they were so much fun! They had these funny nerdy dances and West didn't come across as arrogant as I would have expected.

I really can't describe how good this gig was, for a tenner I saw three massive artists on one tiny stage, in one tiny room.
For some reason also, and I wouldn't blame you for not believing me, the bodyguard or PR guy or something took a liking to me as they let some fans up on stage for the final song (apparently N.A.S.A always do this?). In the end my new best friend Stanley let P and I stay on stage while the rest of the fans got booted off. Everytime a bouncer came over to shoo us away, he put his arm up in front of us saying 'It's alright man, they're cool, they're with me'.

We could barely contain our excitement and we were pretty sure we were going to be booted off for looking so obviously like we didn't belong there. Eventually however, they let us into the dressing room where Squeake Clean signed my poster for me. And can I also say he was dead on, he came across as exhausted but was so polite to us. We were also talking to his mother, Pollick, who went up on stage during the show for a bit of a shimmy and a shake.

Et voila;




...just covering my name in that last photo. Pretty cool though eh? It says '*****y!!! Thanks for the love and support!! Keep exploring space!!! Squeake Clean '

What a guy.


And now...I sleep.

NASA

NASA are playing The Pavilion in Cork tomorrow night. The tickets cost all of ten euro from tickets.ie. Unbelievable, I know!

They're another good example of the many talented people out there who aren't famous enough. Makes me hate Paris Hilton even more.

In Memoriam...

...of Fanta Claws. Some idiot mowed her down outside my house.

It's been a testing week. Along with this, an ongoing and messy relationship just got messier and to top it all off I failed an interview for a job I really wanted, plus the job I have at the moment is fucking me around.

Such is life. Things could be a lot worse, at least I still have all my limbs.

I sincerely hope I didn't just jinx myself.

Two ratty days followed by a not so ratty day.

Job.

Our American went missing there yesterday, but thankfully she's been found again.
Was quite scary as she's in Italy at the moment, having arrived at midnight in Genoa the night before last. She had nowhere to go, no Italian and no information about the city. Before she got off the phone with my brother however, she decided to tell him that she, ya know, might just SLEEP ON THE BEACH if she couldn't find a hostel.
What a moron. Genoa. On the beach. Cute little American girl.
Honestly.

My poor brother had to live through yesterday not having a clue what the hell happened as her phone was switched off. It became clear yesterday how much he actually cares about her too. He said to me 'I have this weird, sick feeling in my stomach'. Says a lot really, that's the type of person he is, he couldn't identify his own anxiety.

Moral of the story - don't act like an idiot if you're fending for yourself in a foreign country.
She's getting slaps when I catch her.